That Damn Essay
by SecretShowMonster
Summary: SO is Ron really Harry's Untouchable Autumn Boy?what will happen in this teh hawtness love story between the two HAWT leading boys? WARNING you suxx0rs, will contain slash, please dont flame me! i burn easily!
1. Chapter 1

That Damn Essay.

It was raining again, and how he hated the rain! It always gave everything a musty, wet glaze, as indeed even his eyes seemed, despite their spring colouring. 'damn, how am i supposed to get that essay finished by thsi afternoon? I can't concentrate in this weather!' Harry's mind mused weakly over the previous weeks: it consisted of a blur of rushing around to finish overdue homework or other such assignments before the schools final term came to a close. That was how it always seemed, probably in every school across Britain. The past few years and months especially had been hard for Harry, not just because of NEWT pressure, but puberty had also hit him hard, mainly in the face. There was no doubting it that Harry was a mildy attractive boy, however his genuine looks were at the moment as clouded as the sky outside, but instead of with rain, with a stormy attitude and a drizzle or pimples on his forehead. 'Well at least i'm not the only one struggling with all this.' That was when his mind cut across other petty thoughts to land quite firmly on his best friend. Ron was also in the same situation as Harry: stressed, spotty, and staring at a piece of parchment. It was filled only with half-started sentances; writing a serious essay on the breeding habits of house-elves was more challenging than either of the two youths had thought.

"Man, no wonder we left this one so long, we could always ask Dobby i suppose." Ron always spoke in a light voice, but lately his words were still filled with squeaks and groans. The curse of youth was what he had called it on so many occasions this past year. Harry shifted his gaze slightly from the parchment to the pelting rain outside the glass-blown windows, his stare a dejected one.

"Theres no way we'd get a serious answer from him."

"Well, what if you command him to then? or ask Kreacher - he'd have no qualms in answering." It seemed like a good idea, or one that was an improvement to staring at paper.

"It's better than just sitting here i guess...lunch is next anyway, we'll go down to the kitchens after this." Even without looking at him Harry could 'see' Ron staring at him, he'd noticed him doing this frequently, but dismissed it when he heard a loud rumble originating from Rons stomach.  
"It's not like we'll miss lunch or anything," the melancholy boy added, "I mean, we're going down to the kitchens, so there'll be heaps of food."

"I bloody well hope so Harry. Im starved." The rest of transfiguration class 'B' rained down on them like the weather outside: repressive and slow. Still, the bell drew ever closer and finally sounded. The boys got to their feet, the noise from the rain splattering on the roof had left their minds clogged. Harry scrunched up the highly scrutinized piece of parchment and threw it away, Ron having already left the classroom. Harry made to follow but was instantly stopped, by Professor McGonagell.

"Potter, clean up your workspace please, this room was left tidy when you entered, no doubt from Ms. Granger so please leave it that way." Harry looked back over to where Ron and him had sat, opening his mouth to protest, however, lying on the ground was a piece of parchemt ripped off form a larger piece. Recovering the offensive piece of untidyness he stashed it in his pocket, wanting to catch up to Ron and not being bothered to cross the room again. Harry listened to his feet more than his head on his way to the kitchens. It was the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he hardly had to think to arrive outside the fruit bowl painting. He hadn't managed to spot Ron on the way down, but he wasn't surprised - when Ron was hungry, it was obvious where he would be.

Harry let himself into the Hogwarts kitchen, and immediatly saw Ron, halfway through two doughnuts, an American hotdog complete with layers of tomatoe sauce, and an extra-large glass of iced coffee. Grinning slyly, Harry helped himself to the remainder of one of Rons doughnuts, ignoring the look of mock anger from the red head.

"Wheres thdonbby?" Harry asked through the last of his stolen doughnut, but Ron only shrugged, prefering the taste of hot dog to conversation. Like everything else at Hogwarts, the kitchens were old, but clean and the kitchen itself managed to retain a warmth to its stones even with the cold, like the rest of the school did on a hot day. Deep inside the castle the weather outside seemed forgotten, and the sounds replacing it was of the various amounts of house-elves scurrying around the place, some already preparing for dinner, some sending up the food for lunch to the four house tables above, and some who just seemed to be rushing about for the fun of it, adding high-pitched sounds to the oevrall scene. However, even in this mess Harry was able to spot the much-liked, eccentric house-elf and mouthed: 'Are. You. Busy. Right. Now?' however before he was able to finish Dobby disappeared and reappeared next to Harrys elbow with the familier 'Pop'ing sound that went with elf magic.

"Harry Potter! You haven't been to see Dobby in ages." He declared and threw himself about Harry's waist. It took the next five minutes for Harry to completely and successfully disentangle Dobby from around him, asking Ron several rimes for help but only getting a small smile back covered in tomatoe sauce, and then explaining to Dobby why he'd neglected to see his big eared friend.

"Dobby, we...uh...need your help with something..." Both boys knew Dobby would be willing to help them with anything, but this seemed a little personnal, even for the colourful elf. Just as they'd expected, the elf seemed to wet himself for the chance to help Harry.

"well, we uh...we're doing this essay, and we need some information for it...because, basically, you see, we're..uh..stuck." Harry danced around the question, wanting Ron to ask instead. Ron, though, had convientiantly hidden himself behind his huge iced coffee cup.

"well...uh...Dobby...How do you...er...breed with other house elfs? and...uh...what are your particular...uh...habits?" Harry polietly looked away, however after waiting a short time for Dobby's reply, Harry looked down to see him staring at Harry's shoelaces.

"Dobby does not understand Mr. Potter." Harry couldn't believe it, the felt himself begin to blush, and asked again:  
"uh...you know...how, when and how often do you guys er...how often do you elfs have sex?" At Harry's last word, the whole kitchen froze, and the warmth that emnated from the stones seemed to shut off, not that it was noticed by Harry, whos face was flushed with a hot blush. Dobby however, was decidedly worse, every part of visible skin on the elf had turned from its normal grey, to a brilliant shade of red. He pulled the teacosy on his head down over his large ears and eyes, and just managed to tell Harry that he was sorry and had to leave before (for the second time) Harry felt thousands of little hands push him and Ron to the door, and out of Hogwarts flushed kitchen. Harrys blush had somewhat diminished, til he looked over at Ron who was oggling and giggling at him.

"what! i didn't see you **helping** me back there." As soon as Harry had spat those words out, he regretted them, and was slightly puzzled at Ron, too, who looked geniunely hurt.

"Sorry, mate, just got a lil carried away . . ." Ron looked a bit happier after Harry said this, and started agreeing with Harry rather furiously that he should of helped. They decided to make their way back to Griffindors common room, they had a study break next anyway. On the way there they discussed Dobby's embarresment and everything seemed back to normal, however, they still had no answers and no information for their essay. In the common room, they pulled their chairs up close to the fire, since the weather hadn't improved. They were almost the only ones there, there were just a few laggers from lunch who'd forgotten books for classes and Neville, the only other 5th form Griffindor who had study the same time as Harry and Ron. It didn't include Hermione either, who had her break after the boys. Because they had so many classes together, ment that it was generally only them two. It was a shame that they were drifting apart slightly, Harry knew that even though Hermione and Ron constantly bickered, that there may of been something deeper that friendship with them. Harry would of been glad for them, even though it made him feel . . . something strange, he couldn't place it. Harry came out of his day-dream as Ron asked:  
"SO...what should we do 'bout that damn essay, eh?" Harry sighed, they were back to the preverbial square one.

"Well, how about the library? Even if we don't find anything in the books Hermione might be able to help." Harry was feeling a little put-out, why couldn't Ron take the inituiative sometimes? Still, Ron agreed with him so once again Harry found himself listening only to his feet and the rain outside the cold castle, Rons feet tracking out a rhyming beat with the torrent of rain against the worn windows. It only took them a few minutes more to reach the doors of the library, and enter quietly. Over Harrys years at Hogwarts, he didn't think the library had ever changed, and he quite liked it the way it was: books wall to wall, the muffled way all the voices seemed; he enjoyed its overall feel, even if its 'overseer' Madam Pince didn't seem to like **his** company, or anyones for that matter. The two boys were now seated together on one of the tables near a wall, half covered with some fungi-covered old romance novels. From where Harry was sitting, he could make out a few of the greenish titles: "Shards of a Broken Soul", "Why carn't you love me?", "black-white LURVE" Harry knew he couldn't get side-tracked at the moment - the essay was more important at the moment and he could always get the trashy fics out to read over the holidays.

Hermione was no where to be seen in the library, although it was quite possible that she might be hidden under a large stack of novels. Harry breathed a sigh and let Ron search for books that could help them. It was then that he noticed a piece of yellowed parchemtn sticking out of the middle of "Shards of a Broken Soul". It seemed to be someones lost bookmark. He pulled the book towards him and opened it up to the marked page. Ah, he loved these trashy romance novels, the written language was superb and danced for his eyes, yet he was always slightly miffed when some of the words didnt quite 'qualify'. He drew his eyes away from the text to the bookmark, the paper looked familier, other than that


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was no where to be seen in the library, although it was quite possible that she might be hidden under a large stack of novels. Harry breathed a sigh and let Ron search for books that could help them. It was then that he noticed a piece of yellowed parchemtn sticking out of the middle of "Shards of a Broken Soul". It seemed to be someones lost bookmark. He pulled the book towards him and opened it up to the marked page. Ah, he loved these trashy romance novels, the written language was superb and danced for his eyes, yet he was always slightly miffed when some of the words didnt quite 'qualify'. He drew his eyes away from the text to the bookmark, the paper looked familier, other than that, it didnt have a name, but instead there were a few scribbled words, that at Harry's glance looked to be part of a poem. Just as he was stashing the bookmark, Ron slapped two huge tomes down on the table, the romance novel flying off and hitting a first year in the thigh.

"'Ey, what'chit." Ron grinned apologetically and nosed his way through the smaller of the two books. Haryy rather unwillingly glanced at the second, and opened it to a random page. Instantly he was hit with a vivid image of a dominatrix house-elf. Slamming the book shut he was laughing before it closed. he knew he'd always act the cool, but couldn't help taking a second look. By this time Ron had dismissed Harry's outburst as a random act of insanity.  
"Well Harry, that certainly wasn't weird or anything...all that I've managed to find is the natural house-elfs gestation period, and some word mentioned all the time but I'm not completely sure what it means...uh..whats a 'gimp'? Harry?" For the second time that day Harry felt himself blush violently, and laugh hysterically.  
"A gimp is someone who gets off by being dominated during sexual actions." Harry knew quite a bit more, too, but he didn't want to continue, especially because it was Ron he was talking to. Harry had been bisexual for as long as he could remember, he no longer questioned this, it was just another part of him that wasn't discussed with anyone. Ron was sat frozen in his dusty, time-clogged chair.

"Well...you asked, Ron.."

"Yea, but, i was **joking**. I wanted to see if you knew, thats all...you uhm into that sort of shit?" Harry had seen the wuestion coming, but his answer still wasn't ready:  
"Er..well yea, i guess, i mean i wouldnt mind -stop laughing at me, damnit!" - It was too late, Ron was already clutching his stomach, but thankfully his laughter was cut short by the shrill bell that pierced the quiet. Harry stormed off to potions, more than a little annoyed with Ron, and sat down next to a flustered and bothered looking Hermione, leaving Ron with a seat next to Neville. 'He deserves it.' Harry thought bitterly, and went to claim a cauldren.

The bell signalling dinner was more like a call of freedom for repressed Harry who exited potions as quickly as he could; before Ron or Hermione had even finished packing up. Halfway to the Great Hall Harry realised how much of a git he was - he'd forgotten his bag. Typically the whole damn thing, not just a quill or two which he could leave there, so his feet turned once more and carried him back to the dungeons via some old stone steps. IT was only after he'd started to fall that he noticed the pool of water on them. He only had time for a gasp before his body felt cold, hard stone. He'd landed on his side, which now throbbed like a bitch. Harry could feel he was getting angrier and angrier with himself when around the corner came a panting Ron.

"Harry! What the hell are you doing on the flooer? Are you alright?" Harry looked up from his grounded fetal position, and felt incrediably stupid.

"I..uh..forgot my bag, then i fell over..." He started thickly, yet another blush had crept in to crowd Harrys' features.

"uh-huh, well, i got your bag anyway, want a hand up, mate?" Ron grinned at Harry, and Harry forgot completely that less than five minutes ago he had been annoyed at Ron. Grinning back he got himself up, and flicked some of the excess water from his long, black school robes.

"Thanks Ron, man I', hungry, beat ya' to the Hall!" Harry started racing back up the slicked stones, while Ron noticed that Harry had dropped something: It was the two pieces of yellowed parchment that Harry had found, unbeknown to Ron, and now Ron put them both back together:

**Beautiful Boy, you remind me of Autumn**

**Beautiful Boy, your head in the clouds**

**Beautiful Boy, If I could only hold you**

**My Untouchable Autumn Boy.**

Ron was stunned. He knew it **couldn't **be true but...wow did Harry really think that about him? woh **Harry?; **his best friend, his dorm buddy...surely there would be no way that someone like Harry could ever like him! Yet here was the proof! neglected looking, torn up, but proof none-the-less...Untouchable Autumn Boy? those words sounded so nice to his tongue...but he knew not to get any hopes up, but his feet flew with happy elation to the Great Hall, the last line of the sad little love poem resounding in his mind with each bounding step.

Dinner in the Great Hall consisted of sausages and mash, with servings of GraveOx (sounds a bit like, GRAVEY-OX) and steamed peas. Ron however, couldn't of cared less about the food for once. He sat, absently shovelling it into his mouth. His eyes kept dancing on Harry, and his mind was fixed on the young wizard also. Harry was sixteen now, old enough that the only reminder of puberty was on his face, with a few spots here-and-there, it felt odd for Ron to really look at Harry like this, before he'd hardly registered his looks, regarding him as 'mate'. Ron thought back to the only other time he'd really looked at Harry: It was back on the Hogwarts Express when they were both first years. Ron couldnt believe that one of the most famous wizards of all time was sitting opposite him...he was fascinated with Harrys' scar back then...and now? now Ron seemed fascinated with the whole of Harry. How fickle Ron thought his mind was - to be swayed into thinking like this all because of one small, desperate little love poem. Yet Rons eyes still traced the outline of Harrys lips and jaw, his eyes still followed the slight movement of Harrys' robes as he breathed, his eyes still wondered at Harrys own pair. Yes, they were green; so fucking green they stole the other, cheaper colours around them and turned them green as well, so green it could never be replicated, so green even Spring would be jealous. And Ron? Ron was his Autumn Boy.


End file.
